Jack's Thoughts
by Jacks-Bonny-Lass
Summary: Did you ever wonder what Jack Sparrow was thinking during all the crazy and exciting events? Well wonder no more! Jack tells the story- read and review please ;)
1. Default Chapter

Hey everyone!! I started writing this because I was bored. I've read stories of US being in the movie, but never of the characters themselves and what they were thinking. I was wondering just what it was that Jack Sparrow was thinking during some of the events... is he really as aloof and/or drunk as he appears? I kinda think maybe. . . but in a witty kinda way (does that even make sense. . . ?!) Eh well, tell me what you think. Let me know if it's quite obvious that I was bored. . . or if you like it!  
  
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'Ello, Jack Sparrow here. *Captain* Jack Sparrow, if you may, even though I don't actually have possession of a ship yet. 'Tis all in good time, I assure you of that.  
That's actually just what I was explaining to this pompous, overconfident ingrate standing before me.  
"Well I don't see your ship. . . Captain," Mr. pompous smirked.  
"I'm in the market, as it were," I tried to explain without giving too much of meself up. He may *look* like a simpleton, but sometimes they'll surprise you.  
"He said he'd come to commandeer one." Like I said. . . they may look like simpletons, but the truth is, there is a *bit* of air getting to their brains.  
"Told ya he was telling the truth. These are his, sir," The other uniformed lad handed Mr. pompous my effects.  
"No additional shots nor powder," Mr. Pom-pom inspected my accouterments with his repulsively sterile fingers, "a compass that doesn't point north," Oh, if he only knew. . . "and I half expected it to be made of wood," he slid my sword back into it's sheath. "You are, without doubt, the worst pirate I've ever heard of."  
"Ah, but you have heard of me," I smiled triumphantly. But for some reason, Mr. P didn't find my humor amusing seeing as how he ordered his men to clasp me in some irons. Puh- how do you like that? As if it's not bad enough that he has to walk around with that idiotic wig on, painfully sterile hands, and fancy clown outfit, he has no sense of humor. I should have known.  
"Commodore, I really must protest," Ah, that's a good lass- I knew she'd come in handy for more than just looks, "Pirate or not this man saved my life." FINALLY!! I get some sort of acknowledgment for my 'well-doing'.  
"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness." Which of course he just had to rub out. . .  
"Though it seems enough to condemn him."  
"Indeed." Ok! I think the little simmer of hope for me possibly being recognized as 'helpful' is *completely* out now. . . you can stop stomping all over it. . .  
But I wasn't just going to let them take me in *that* easily! After all, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, Savvy? So when they clasped the last cuff in place. . .  
"Finally," I wrapped my irons around the pretty little girl's neck. . . What was her name again?. . . Ellen. . .? Ellie. . .?  
"I knew you'd warm up to me,"  
Emma. . .? Ellanor. . .?  
"Commodore Norrington, my effects, please, and my hat,"  
Ester. . .? Ellisa. . .?  
"Commodore!"  
Hmm...Eliza-Aha!  
"Elizabeth! It is Elizabeth isn't it?"  
"Miss Swann," Oh, gee thanks- after all that thinking I can't even call you by it...  
"Miss Swann, if you'd be so kind. Come, come, dear, we don't have all day. Now if you'd be very kind," I glanced up at Mr. Pomp who I could tell was thoroughly enjoying the sight of his little princess in my arms. I smiled coyly, "Easy on the goods, darling."  
"You're despicable."  
"Sticks and stones, love. I saved your life, you saved mine, we're square. Gentlemen, m'lady, you will always remember this as the day that you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow!" I ever so gently shoved Elizabeth with all my might into her Prince-in-waiting. Grasping hold of a rope behind me, I kicked out the gears that were holding it taught. . . and up I flew.  
  
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Ok, I know it's not long, but let me know what you think. Flames, compliments, or advice!! But PLEASE put something into my reviews ;) 


	2. Crossing blades with the strapping Jack ...

Holy crap!! Reviews, reviews, reviews!! Thanks so much guys, I'm actually really surprised as to how many people read and liked it. you're sure you're not just sayin' so? LoL well anyways, I'm going to make the chapters longer, I was just bored at the time and wanted to post what I had already (considering I wasn't sure if I even was going to continue).  
  
Plateado: "I loved that! Sorry, I just found that one line to be very funny. *coughs* Anyway, you seem to have their lines memorizes pretty well. How many times have you seen this movie?"  
  
Hehe, thanks and I've only seen the movie. *grumble-grumble* times.  
  
"What's that? We can't hear you!"  
  
I SAID. . . only erm. . . 11. . . or. . . so. . . times. . . *hides face and feels ashamed that everyone knows that she's a crazy, obsessed fangirl*. . .  
  
ANYWHO. . . onto less embarrassing subjects.  
  
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Yes, up I flew. Way. . . way. . . up. And with a little less dignity and grace than I had imagined at the time. But the real point was that I had escaped. But who was to doubt that? After all, like I had said, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!  
Below I could hear the Commodore ordering them to fire. I hit the ground running, the bullets zinging past me.  
I ran along the streets looking for some place to hide, but all the doors I tried were locked, and there were police almost everywhere now.  
Around this time I realized that I really had nowhere to go. I had no ship. I had no crew. I had no allies. I have to admit, I got a bit worried. But just a bit. The first door I came to that was unlocked was a blacksmith workshop. I quickly slipped in, making sure not to draw any attention to the village people outside.  
It was actually a rather convenient place to hide, considering I still had those bloody irons on. But what would I use to get them off? I couldn't very well burn them off. . . they were still attached to my hand after all.  
"Bumpidy-bump. . ." I froze. Slowly and quietly I made my way to where the noise came from, and sleeping upon a barrel was an old, fat, dirty, smelly drunkard . . . yep, I sighed, my kinda guy.  
I nudged him, but he didn't wake. Upon closer look, he didn't seem as if he'd wake even if there was a bunch'a hammerin' going on. . . aha! That's it! I'll hammer my shackles off!  
Hmm. . . but just to make sure he's really out. . . "AAHH!!" Nope, not a budge.  
I went back to where all the fancy tools were kept. Grabbing a hammer, I began to hammer away. To no avail. Plan "B" . . . which would help if I actually had a plan "B" . . . *looking around* Donkey! No, not just the donkey, but the gears that the donkey was attached to!  
Grabbing a red hot metal rod (seeing as how there's no nicer way to get him moving. . .) I poked him. Ha! I poked the ass in the ass! I chuckled to myself at my own witty joke as I set the medal rod back, and swung my shackles into the gears.  
"Crunch, pop!" They were off! Oh yes, am I brilliant or am I brilliant? Well, they weren't exactly off, but at least they weren't connected to each other anymore.  
Then, the door swung open. I darted behind one of the many beams to see a young man come strolling in as if he owned the place. Hmm. . . Perhaps he did own the place.  
He walked back to check on the drunk, and then was back into the room with the tools.  
"Not where I left you," he spoke to the hammer. Then suspiciously eyed my hat. He had better not touch my hat. If he does, I swear I will- ok, he's reaching for the hat. I slid my sword from its sheath and stepped towards him steadily, preventing him from laying a finger on my beloved hat.  
"You're the one they're hunting. The pirate." His eyes were narrowed in disgust, but I could sense a bit of fear in him too. Poor chap. But he looked familiar. Did I know him? I swear I've seen that face before. Same eyes, same nose. Hmm. . . "You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?" I calmly circled him, getting a better look to see if I would remember. Not the man from Havery was it? The man who tried to steal my donut, but ended up leaving with two fewer fingers than he had started with? No. . . No, nevermind, it wasn't him; that man didn't have a mustache, and this guy still had all his fingers.  
"I make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates."  
I think perhaps I haven't met him before. I would have remembered such a cocky attitude from such a weak framed boy.  
"Ah. Well, then it would be a shame to put a black mark on your record. So, if you'll excuse me -" Not wanting to cause any undue problems, I turned to leave, but froze at the sound of him whipping out a sword from the nearby supply. I closed my eyes, how foolish can you be to try and duel with a pirate? Let alone me, the infamous Jack Sparrow?  
"Do you think this wise, boy? Crossing blades with a pirate?"  
"You threatened Miss Swann," He spoke in a very deliberate, protective tone. Who the blaze was Miss Swann? . . .Oh. . . right, the Princess with the pompous Commodore.  
"Only a little," I took a step closer, sliding my blade smoothly across his. Then we dueled. With which I was impressed with his skill. "You know what you're doing, I'll give you that; excellent form, but how's your footwork? If I step here. . ." I turned about and he followed perfectly with every move, "Very good," I complimented. Never would have guessed it from him, but how long could he keep up? "Now I step again," Turning about the other way he followed flawlessly. But I was getting bored. I still had to make it off this blasted piece of land, which meant finding a ship and sailing away- all out of sight from the British Navy. "Ta."  
I turned to leave, leapt up onto the landing to go through the door, and was just about to open the door when his sword came "fwapping" into place, just centimeters from my head. And I confess, it startled me. Taking a hold of the sword, I attempted to pull it from the door, but alas, it was stuck. Even I, the strapping Jack Sparrow, couldn't budge it. I turned back to the young fellow, smiling in exasperation.  
"That is a wonderful trick, except once again you are between me and my way out. And now you have no weapon," He was trying my patience, but nothing I couldn't handle- especially since he was without his sword. That was until he pulled out the half made sword that I had used to scorch the donkey with. The end was red hot, and sizzled in the air, inches from my face.  
We dueled for a while longer.  
"Who makes all these?" I noticed just how many swords were stored in the small room.  
"I do! And I practice with them three hours a day!" Ok. . . I'm wondering why it is that he is bragging about this. . .?  
"You need to find yourself a girl, mate!" I blocked another one of his blows, and leaned in closer, eyeing him up and down suspiciously, "Or, perhaps the reason you practice three hours a day is that you already found one and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet. You're not a eunuch, are you?"  
"I practice three hours a day, so that when I meet a pirate, I can kill it!" Feeling a little dramatic now, are we? We dueled further. He seemed to have gotten a surge of madness after my little comment about his masculinity ("Me thinks thou doest protest too much, Aye?" . . .hmm, did I just quote shakespear?)  
Swords clashing around the gears, on a teeter-totter sort of thing (Donkey toy?), and even in the rafters of all places. Finally, after what seemed to be eternity, I blew some sawdust in his face and whipped out my pistol. Of course, I knew I wouldn't actually be usin' it, but he had no idea.  
When he realized what I had done, he froze with his sword still pointing at me.  
"You. . . cheated. . ." The poor lad looked as if he were about to cry.  
"Pirate," I reminded him, "Now, move away."  
"No." He stood firmly in place. What did I have to do for this boy to let me go?  
"Please move?" There was banging going on at the door now. No doubt the Commodore had found out where I was.  
"No! I cannot just step aside and let you escape."  
"This shot is not meant for you." Why. . . why did I say that? Perhaps if I would have held out a bit longer he would have- . . . ouch. . . *blackness*  
  
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Whatcha think? Yay or nay? Anything not "Jack-y" enough? Well, once again I'm requesting that you will place SOMETHING in my reviews ;) hehe, this is fun!! (although he was getting on my nerves the way he kept thinking about himself in 3rd person. . . "afterall, I'm captain jack sparrow!". . . I picture he goes over that a lot in his mind though ;)) 


	3. That's interesting

Thanks so much for the reviews everyone, and thanks for the advice Plateado. I hadn't even thought of that. Writing it, I imagined the whole thing as well as when I read over it. Never dawned on me so thanks! I'm going to revise that chapter and post it back up sometime soon.  
  
Well here's the next part, hope ye enjoy!  
  
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I slowly opened my eyes. My head was pounding and there was a man standing before me. A waiter?  
"Yes kind sir, I will have mine with extra chili sauce. . ." My head fell back and everything went black again.  
  
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Once again, I opened my eyes. But this time, I was in a dark room, and the waiter had disappeared. Clutching my head, which was still pulsating, I gradually sat up.  
'Hmm. . . this doesn't look like a restaurant to me,' I thought groggily. No. No restaurant, more like a jail cell. It was a dimly lit, damp jail; lit only by the window in the day and the lanterns hanging from the wall by night.  
The previous events of the day became clearer as I sat up onto the concrete bench and leaned against the cell bars.  
Dusting off my hat, I placed it back on my head, tipping it forward to keep the soft glow of the lantern out of my eyes. My headache wasn't as unbearable, but I still felt the effects of being bashed over the head.  
"Come here, boy. Want a nice juicy bone?"  
I looked over, just now noticing that I had cellmates. Not actually "cellmates", they were in the cell next to mine. They were trying to get a scruffy looking mutt to come to them. He had the keys dangling loosely from his mouth.  
"Come here. Come on, boy!" The dog didn't budge. He just looked at them with a gleam of amusement in his eyes, sitting just out of reach.  
"You can keep doing that forever, the dog is never going to move," I informed them dully.  
"Oh, excuse us if we haven't resigned ourselves to the gallows just yet." I chuckled lightly to myself, and rested my head against the wall once more. I could tell it was going to be a long night.  
  
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Just thought I'd add in here that every time I watch the part where Jack has his hat tipped forward, and just does that sly looking smile when they say that they haven' resigned themselves to the gallows I MELT!! OMG. . . that is like my absolute favorite part, I swear when I get the DVD I am going to replay it over and over and. . . *ahem* sorry. . . -Now back to your regularly scheduled program ;)  
  
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It was several hours later. The chaps in the cell next to mine were still at it (although not as enthusiastically), and the dog still hadn't moved (although, he too looked a bit more weary).  
Then I heard it, a monstrous explosion coming from the direction of the sea.  
"I know those guns," I jumped up and looked out the window. My intuition was proved true, "It's the Pearl," I breathed in awe. It was too good to be true.  
"The Black Pearl?" The mate in the cell next door leaned against the bars facing mine, alarm quite evident in his voice, "I've heard stories. She's been preying on ships and settlements for near ten years. Never leaves any survivors. . ."  
"No survivors? Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?" He was a swift one; that was for sure. . .  
We watched the cannon firing and heard the distant cries of terror. . . Ah, sweet memories. Although I myself had never aided in the killing of innocent people. When I was captain, I simply ordered them to raid, rob and plunder- never to kill.  
Ah, but that was all in the past. . . Mutineered I was. And lucky too. For now I wasn't part of the curse. . . if indeed there was a curse. It was really just rumors, I had never found out for sure.  
Suddenly there was another explosion which was much louder than any of the previous. I sprang from the window just in time, being thrown to the ground by the impact of the fire.  
Recovering from the blast I stood back up, just in time to see the last prisoner from the neighboring cell exiting through the hole that had been blown into the wall.  
"My sympathies friend, you've no manner of luck at all." And with that, he was gone. I pressed my head against the 'too small' hole that had been blown into my side of the jail. Huh. . . no luck at all? Did he realize what he had just said? In case you didn't realize, he just stated that THE Captain. Jack. Sparrow. had. no. luck. ?!? I chuckled silently at the notion of the idea.  
I bent down, though, and picked up the bone that was lying on the floor. Even if I was lucky (THE luckiest, mind you), you can't blame me for trying to hurry my luck a bit.  
"Come on, doggy. It's just you and me now. It's you and ol' Jack," I had my arm outstretched to the pup, helping him out just a little, "Come on, come on, good boy. That's it, good boy, come on! Bit closer, bit closer. That's it, that's it, doggy," could he move ANY slower?! "Come on you filthy, slimy, mangy cad. . ." there was a crash from the stairway leading down to the jail. It was either the noise or my insult, but either way, the mutt ran off past my cell. . . bringing the keys away with him. "No, no, no, no! I didn't mean it. . . I didn't-" A guard tumbled down the stairs, crashing into the opposing wall at the landing and laid limp.  
I slowly stood, immediately recognizing the two men who appeared at the entrance to the prison. A sickening feeling washed over me. It was Twigg and Koehler, two men from my old crew.  
"This ain't the armory," Twigg spoke angrily, studying the contents of the room. He was a rather small pirate, thinning beard and mustache, but one of the best at dealing with trade as I recalled. Trading in all aspects obviously, from riches to captains.  
"Well, well, well, look what we have here Twigg - Captain Jack Sparrow. . ." Koehler's eyes came to rest on me. Walking over, he planted a wad of spit on my boots. Koehler wasn't one you'd want to anger. He was a large brute with a thick black beard and warrior symbols scarred into his forehead.  
"Last time I saw you, you were all alone on a godforsaken island, shrinking into the distance," Twigg taunted, "His fortunes aren't improved much." They looked on at me as if I were some sort of circus freak. I felt a pang of dejection shoot through me. We had been a good team, all of us. Until that bloody Isle de Meurta came into play. The greed overtook them all, but not after makin' sure I would die a slow death of starvation (if I chose not to end my own life first).  
"Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen," I spoke, sounding cool and untouched, "the deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers." As soon as the last word had left my mouth, Koehler's hand was gripping my neck roughly.  
"You know NOTHING of Hell!" His arm, under the shine of the moonlight that shone from the window, was pure bone.  
"So there is a curse. . ." I uttered, "that's intresting. . ." He shoved me back, finally releasing his cold grasp, and they left as suddenly as they had come.  
Taking the dog bone in my hand, I studied it. It was just as much bone as his arm had been.  
"That's very intresting. . ."  
  
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I feel like that didn't do much more than the movie itself as far as getting into Jack's head, but I couldn't seem to find room for it. What did you think? I'm up for any advice (or just good ol' reviews!!!)  
  
Oh, and I'm going to be gone this weekend, so I'll be back to update on Sunday night, possibly Monday afternoon, savvy? 


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